


Snake Eyes

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Danger, Paralysis, Rescue, Snakes, Whump, not poison, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: Alan takes overs dispatch which leaves someone else exposed to danger. (pre season one)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I don't have enough going on right now, i apparently decided that I needed to add something else to my works in progress list.

_15:27_ International Rescue receive a distress call from a downed cargo plane.

 _15:51_ Thunderbird One arrives on the scene and extracts the pilot from the wreckage

 _16:03_ Thunderbird Two arrives to begin collecting and containing the toxic waste that made up the majority of the cargo.

 _16:35_   One operative is tasked with locating the black box, that was scattered with the debris when the plane broke in two in mid-air. 

_16:39_ The operative starts complaining about the difficulty of finding something so small in several square miles of dense and remote forest.

_17:12_

“Am I any closer?” John asked over the comms, as Alan studied the displays in front of him. He had the cargo inventory, specs of the plane, a weather map, a geological map and an overlay with blinking dots for each of his brothers and their machines. What he didn’t have right now was the blinking light that indicated the piece of the crashed plane that would hold the black box.

“I’m not sure to be honest with you, the signal keeps fading in and out and shifting slightly.” Alan could scream with frustration – after co-ordinating their arrival and formulating a plan to get all that toxic stuff out of this protected area safely this was meant to be the easy part. But the unusual geology was making him look like a fool.

“It must be damaged then. It can happen sometimes.” John said unhappily, as he tramped through the undergrowth with no real hope of finding what he was after.

“Why don’t you turn back, the airline can continue the search for it. Working out what went wrong isn’t really our job anyway.” Alan grimaced as he shifted in his seat. The blinking light that was John stopped for a moment and then started to angle back towards Thunderbird 2. Alan could hear the rustle and crackle as John negotiated his way through the dense patches of brush.

“Are the air lifts finished?” John asked so Alan pulled up yet another screen. John would probably have had all of these open at the same time, and he was trying his best but that was just too much information to deal with. 

“Yep. Well, nearly. Scott is doing one now and we just have the last couple of crates that Virgil and Gordon will be bringing in.” Alan reported, updating their ‘percentage of cargo recovered’ counter to 97%.

“And how are you doing?” When Alan didn’t immediately reply John continued.  “Come on, I know how much a broken bone can ache. Have you taken your pills recently?”

Alan gave a sigh at the unfairness of being the youngest and having _all_ of his siblings feel it was their duty to constantly worry about him. He used a pencil from the desk to scratch at the inside of the cast that stretched from ankle to knee.

“Yes I have.” The naggers. “I’m fine.” The worry-worts. “It just aches a bit. I’m just....”

“Restless? Bored? Ready to be out in the field again?” Alan could hear the smile in John’s voice even as he continued to rustle his way back to the others.

“Yes!” Alan exclaimed. He knew that this was a vital role, and that with him out action – out of physical action – it made sense for him and John to swap for a while. But he just wasn’t made to sit still.

John chuckled. “Well maybe you won’t be so careless next time you are doing a pick up off a mountain. For the record, I would much rather you were here, tramping through miles of forest, and I was up on 5, but needs must.”

Alan endured the gentle chiding – and gentle it was compared to the dressing down he had had from Scott, while the plaster was still drying no less.

_17:14_

“Ow, Son of a...” John managed to supress the curse and his blinking position marker stopped. Alan rolled his eyes – he didn’t know why everyone was so intent on not swearing in front of him, he wasn’t a kid! Besides he knew what they meant anyway. Mostly.

“What’s wrong now.” So far John had moaned when he slipped down a small slope, caught his hand on a thorn and was startled by a large bird. 

“I reached out to move this branch and a snake bit me. Damn, that smarts.” 

“You ok? What sort of snake?” Alan felt a stirring of unease.

“I don’t know, the scaly kind.” John snapped. Alan tried to not to take it personally: John didn’t do well when out of his comfort zone of knowing _everything._

Alan called up his screen that had information about the area, and moved to the column that had been largely ignored: the local fauna.

“I meant was it the dangerous kind?” He clarified. 

“I have no idea, it wasn’t wearing a badge. My hand does look kinda red though – almost like an allergic reaction.” Except that John didn’t have any allergies.

“Snakes, snakes, snakes.” Alan muttered to himself as he narrowed the selection of animals to reptiles. There were quite a few in this part of the world so now they just had to play a game  of ‘guess the snake’.

“Was it a darker or lighter brown.” Alan asked.

“Darker.” Alan swiped the lighter ones off the screen and looked for the next most common distinguishing feature. 

“Ermm.... round head or pointed?”

“Pointed I guess. Ahhhh, Alan, my hand’s gone kinda tingly, just … erm saying.”

 _Shit_. Alan dismissed a few more and added ‘tingly’ into the keyword search terms. That didn’t help. Well it was hardly a scientific term.

“Did it have diamonds on it’s head?”

“Yeah.” More gone.

“What colour?”

“Sort of gold.”

That left one. It had several words watermarked over the top. One side said ‘endangered’ and the other said ‘deadly.’ _Shit_ _,_ _shit_ _,_ _shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have kinda written myself into a corner with this timing thing, but I am not ready to give up on it yet! Here endeth any semblance of reality in relation to snakes.

 

_17:17_

_This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening._ Alan pulled the information about the snake to full screen: weather patterns and cartography and air traffic was now relegated to a secondary concern.  Then he had to minimise it just slightly – he had made it too big to read in his haste: the pixilated snake head looking at him.

“Alan. You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Alan aimed for the calm and confident tone that John usually used as he answered his brother, but he knew it was mores stressed and worried as he forced out: “It’s..... it’s poisonous. I’m just reading the information now.”

There was silence on the line for a moment.

“It’s ok, you got this.” John said, reassuring the youngest Tracy even as he waited for more information.   “Remember what I taught you, skim big blocks of text, look for keywords and don’t be afraid to put yourself on mute if you need a minute to think.”

“Right, gotcha.” Alan nodded even though no-one else could see, forced himself to relax his shoulders and sit a bit straighter.

Alan wasn’t particularly interested in the native environment, normal feeding patterns or shedding cycle of this particular species so jumped straight down to the bottom of the page where it said ‘highly venomous’.

 _Right_ _right_ _right_ _right_ _right_ _._ His thoughts were racing and heart was pounding. Piloting a rocket into deep space, no problem. Match his pod’s acceleration to Gordon’s exactly in a snowstorm, piece of cake. Research a totally new area, assimilate the information and put together a coherent debrief – that wasn’t his strong point. It was too much like homework, but as always he would try his best.

Skim John said, and skim he did, reading that page faster than he could have thought possible. Words that jumped out at him were ‘highly aggressive' ‘bites rare due to low population’ ‘onset within ten minutes’ ‘total muscle paralysis’ ‘fast breakdown in clinical trials’.

_17:19_

“Alan, I feel a bit..... I’m going to sit down.” That would have spiked Alan’s worry if his blood pressure wasn’t already sky high: Tracy’s weren’t the type of people to rest even when they got the chance. Virgil had once come back from a twelve hour excavation from an earthquake hit region and gone straight on a hike round the island – he'd had to be dragged back by Scott with the threat of telling on him to Grandma.

“Yeah, good idea, sit and stay.” Alan said absently, frowning as he studied harder than he ever had before. 

Ten minutes? That wasn’t long, barely long at all and easy to lose track of so Alan opened a timer and set it to six minutes. That seemed about right.

First things first, get someone there, move the boots that were on the ground. Don’t leave someone in danger alone if you could help it. So who was closest? A few moments ago the location overlay showed none of them were very far apart, but Virgil was the only one on the right side of Thunderbird 2 – he was slightly to the east while John was north – the others were south west.

Alan muted his comms to John and opened a channel just to his other brothers. “This is a Priority One call. Acknowledge.” They seldom used Priority One as usually they worked together to figure out the most important actions when on a rescue, pooled their resources and their ideas and their expertise. Priority One meant ‘drop everything and do what I say without question or hesitation’ or  ‘I don’t care is going on with you right now, listen to me’. Or as Gordon called it ‘shut up and do what I tell you.’ Alan had never used it and John had only ever used it twice, once on the day they lost Dad. He received three quick yet surprised replies of “Acknowledged.”

“Virgil, I need you to get to John’s position. Now. Run.” Alan hadn’t stopped speaking before Virgil was on the move, the sound of his brother crashing through undergrowth on the way to the marker that Alan had placed on his display.

“Scott, Gordon, head to Thunderbird 2 and wait for further instructions.”

_17:20_

Now Virgil was on the way he could try and think. Alan felt the urge to pace; movement always helped him concentrate. There were several mentions of paralysis: accounts from people who lived in this area going back several hundred years. Even when watching tv he liked to move around. Fidgeting some may call but Alan was not a passive person.  There was a study a study on mice. If he absolutely had to be seated he would fiddle with a pen or anything else in reach.  Some famous ecologist apparently wrote a paper about rare species and their impact on the wider environment. Now he had to satisfy himself with tapping his fingers anxiously on the desk top. No pattern, just a rhythm that sounded like raindrops on the roof. A couple of autopsy reports... 

_No_ _no_ _no_ _no_ _no.... This sounded bad, so bad, so very bad._ Alan’s stomach clenched with a pain to match that in his leg and a cloud of doom drifted over his usually sunny disposition. Alan didn’t think he could handle losing anyone else, not after all they’d been through in the last few years.  

 

_Wait. Mice._

He clicked a link that took him to some clinical studies on the effects of this particular snake bite. Skimming again he picked out ‘total paralysis within twenty minutes’ ‘anti venom unstable’ ‘eliminated in an hour in laboratory environment.’ 

 Alan read the page for a second time, a little slower, and then a third time when he realised that he hadn’t taken it in. He focused on the hadn’t even noticed the graphs that rose and.... dipped!

That meant there was a point at which...... yes! ‘ venom reduced to non-effective concentrations.’ Alan didn’t read a lot of medical journals, but he knew what that meant and he had the glimmerings of a plan.  

Could it work? It would have to. They would _make_ it work. With a swell of resolution Alan set his jaw and tried to reduce the shaking of his hands so that he could press the right keys. It would do no good to eject the pods or open the landing bay doors or change the orbit of Thunderbird 5.

Once more he broadcast to his brothers. “Gordon, when you reach Two you need to grab Med Kit Charlie and the leg it to John and Virgil. Scott when you get there” because Scott was further out than Gordon so would be a few minutes behind. “You get a stretcher and do the same. Acknowledge.”

Another three acknowledgments came so Alan was relieved he could say: “Priority One end.” That opened up the comms again and they didn’t hesitate to now make use of that.

_17:24_

“What the hell Alan?” Scott demanded, even as he was running. 

“Hang on.” Alan would explain, but he had to check on John first, well aware of how long mere minutes could feel when you were waiting for the eye in the sky to bring it’s attention back on you.  A few quick presses and four became five. “John, we’re all on now. How are you doing?”

“Feeling.... a bit.... heavy to be honest. Alan?” John sounded tired, like he was having to force out the words and Alan wished silently for Virgil to hurry up. “I think I’m gonna..... need some help.”

“They’re on the way.” Alan promised, twizling in the chair nervously. 

“Alan! What is the situation?” Scott repeated, worry making the question aggressive and sharp where he was usually coaxing and steady.

 “John’s been bitten by a snake and it’s extremely poisonous.”

There were three sharp intakes of breath and Alan's wish was granted as three pairs of footsteps thudding thousands of miles away sped up.

“Venomous...... “ came from John’s line – his voice wavering even as he issued the correction. “it bit me so it’s …. venomous.”

“Fine. Venomous.” Alan didn’t care about that distinction right know and was irrationally annoyed that John did. “It causes total muscle paralysis in approximately 20 minutes.”

“Hence the stretcher....” Scott huffed. “We’ll get you back to the island and then….”

“No. You’re not..... listening..... He said total.” Virgil panted out.   

”Yes,” Alan agreed solemnly. “Total. that includes the heart and all muscles involved in breathing. Which is why it’s usually fatal.”


	3. Chapter 3

_17.25_  

If they weren’t the world’s foremost rescue operation, trained and tested in working under pressure they may have panicked. They didn’t, but Alan thought it was as close as they came after his stark announcement. 

“Shit. There’s no anti-venom in Med Kit Charlie!” 

“Do we even have an antivenom for this type of snake?” 

“Hang on...” Alan tried.  

“No idea – what did you say it was Alan?” 

“If we don’t get Brains working on one.” 

“Guys, stop...” he pleaded 

“How far away are you Virgil?” 

“We can be back at the island in ninety minutes give or take.” 

“Which is the nearest hospital? Maybe we should go there instead?” 

The questions and comments came thick and fast breaking all protocol by talking over each other as much as they listened. As their current dispatcher Alan needed to get back control over the airwaves and remind his brothers that he was the one with the information. What would John do? A stupid question as John would have never let the conversation get away from him in the first place. 

 _17.26_  

Alan had realised a short time before that he couldn’t _be_ his big brothers and that it would be futile to try to emulate then exactly. That was a hard lesson to learn in a family of overachievers with everyone else at the top of their game, already working seamlessly as a team. Alan was still looking for his place and to work out what his niche was. He would have to take the extensive training he’d been given and do find his own way. For now Alan did what came naturally as the youngest in a large family – he shouted. 

“Will you guys shut up! Or do I have to Priority One again?” 

Silence poured in. Did they always interrupt that much or was it just that Alan was noticing it more now that he was he one on the receiving end? It was irritating. He would ask John later.  

“Good, now if I can get a word in edgeways..... There is no antivenom and we don’t have time to make one.” 

“Sheesh...” 

“I know.” Alan set his shoulders again at the devastation in that one word – he though it had been Gordon but it was difficult to tell. “But anti-venom doesn’t matter because the body will break the _venom_ down in about an hour. All you have to do is keep John breathing until then.” 

More silence as his plan was judged and evaluated by four keen minds, no doubt looking for the flaw so they could figure out how to counter it or come up with something better. 

“So that’s why I’ve got the CPR gear?” Gordon asked. 

“Yep. You’ll need to do chest compressions but the respiration equipment should do the trick, particularly as you haven’t used any oxygen this trip.” 

“Alan, are you sure we shouldn’t be getting him to a hospital?” Scott sounded very serious but at least this time it was an honest question. Scott was asking dispatch about the best course of action instead of telling his baby brother what to think and that difference made Alan swell with pride.  

“I’m sure. Don’t waste your time arguing with me, just do what I tell you.” he told the pilot of Thunderbird One. 

“FAB.” The pilot responded. 

 _17: 28_  

Virgil had stayed silent throughout the exchange, the only sound the pounding of footsteps and the crashing of brush until his voice came through loud, clear and panting slightly. 

“I’m here”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday so I get cake and you get a new chapter - hooray

With those words Virgil thundered onto John’s location, as described by his wrist display. He frantically looked about, breathing deep after his full speed dash, until he spotted his brother sat with his back against a falling tree. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked, jogging over to kneel at his side.

“I’ve been …. better to be honest... Virg.” John replied, trying for a smile but only managing a half grimace.

“How is he?” Scott asked over the comm.

“Give me a few minutes guys, let me work.” Then Virgil addressed John, tapping a few keys on John’s wrist to access the inbuilt biometrics. “You know the drill, give me symptoms.” 

“Everything’s starting to feel.... heavy. And I’m tired.” John managed while Virgil studied the medical data. Brains had written complex algorithms to analyse heart rate, respiration, blood pressure, blood glucose level, hydration and probably dozens more. He would pour over the uploaded information back at the island all to evaluate how safe their equipment was keeping them and how it can be improved. Today they would need to use the information in real time.

“Are you in any pain?”

“No. It tingles.”

_That was something anyway_ Virgil thought as he noted the two most important data points right now - John’s heart rate and blood pressure. 

“Do you” Virgil hesitated for a moment “understand Alan’s plan?”

_17.29_

That wasn’t really what Virgil was asking but he was sure John would understand anyway. He wanted John’s opinion on the plan itself, it was his life on the line after all. But Virgil was very cautious about how he voiced, well aware how self doubt could creep up on the youngest Tracy when he felt under pressure with the important decisions. Virgil didn’t want to be the one that to decimate Alan by doubting him but this was risky, very risky. Sitting out the effects of a venomous bite until the effects passed? Not a path that would come highly recommended under any other circumstances. They had to trust each other. Trust that they were making the best and safest decisions at all times, but this? This was crazy.

As much as he tried to hide it John must have seen the doubt that Virgil felt and for a wonder didn’t judge him: expression open with just the tone of his voice John answered the question meant instead of the one asked.

“I understand.”

John looked him straight in the eye as he said it, unwavering and Virgil had to look away. He put his fingers on John’s wrist checking for a pulse even though it was completely unnecessary. Barely saying anything John had managed to communicate stone cold faith in their little brother and Virgil was slightly ashamed that he didn’t have the same. It was just that Alan was so new at this and usually out in the field – he hadn’t had much experience of directing a rescue. None of them had really, why would they when John was so damn good at it? Maybe that should change and they should work to be more flexible, have more confidence in each other, though it was never easy for him to hand the controls of Two over to someone else. But that was a worry for another day and wouldn’t help anyone right know. 

“Virg...il”

That one stuttering word drew Virgil’s attention back, urgent and filled with a tightly controlled fear as he saw John's vitals dip into red – heart rate slowing and blood pressure bouncing.

“Gordon, where are you?” Virgil muttered into his comm, only half expecting to be heard but he got a reply anyway.

“NOt long... this forest …..is thick.”

“Make it less if you can.” And then to John. “I think we need to get you laid down now.”

John nodded but only just, the movement slow and jerky.

Virgil gently maneuvered John so he was laying on the most even looking patch of ground, brushing some twigs out of the way and throwing to one side the bigger rocks.

 John was trying to move himself but was hardly any help at all, barely moving as the venom overran his systems.

_17.30_

“Close your eyes so they don’t get dry.” Virgil suggested softly.

John looked scared as he muttered, jaw stiff. “Can’t. Don’t. Go.”

Virgil reached out to grasp his brother’s hand squeezing it tight, trying to squeeze all the tension out. “I’m not going anywhere.” He said definitively, before leaning over and closing John’s eyes with care. He’d had that sad duty on a couple of occasions when they had arrived too late to save a life. Virgil promised himself this would be different, they were here and on time.

He sat there, holding on tight, giving what comfort he could. He had forgotten to ask if John could still feel or whether the paralysis had taken his senses as well. God, Virgil hoped not – it would be hard enough to be unable to move let alone if he was disconnected from even the ground he was laying on. Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off John’s slowly moving chest, and clutched his wrist in just such a way he could still feel his pulse. Not that he doubted the technology that was projecting small holographic graphs from John’s other arm, but it was different, more immediate to be able to see and feel it for himself.

Virgil always liked to be hands on. He could spend hours looking at schematics but there was something much more _real_ about getting the tools out, rolling up his sleeves and getting stuck in. He liked to be able to touch the problem in front of him, turn the pieces around in his hands, feel the rough edges and smooth surfaces before fitting them together. Virgil found the whole process of solving a physical problem very soothing in the same way he found piloting Two a comfort – _doing something_ was very important to him and he found that he picked up much more information than when sat behind a computer screen. 

In the end Virgil and the tech detected the change at the same moment, Virgil’s focused attention just as effective an early warning system. Virgil straightened with alarm as shrill beeps filled the air. John’s chest stilled, his pulse faded under Virgil’s hand. It was actually happening.

“I’ve got you.” He told his still brother. “I’m right here.”

_17.34_

Virgil dropped John’s hand, clasped the heel of one of his over the other, counted ribs and started chest compressions.


	5. Chapter 5

_17:40_

When Gordon careened into the area he was met by a scene straight out of his nightmares – one brother still while another performed emergency first aid – shocking even though it was expected after hearing of Alan’s plan.

Virgil didn’t even look up - finishing the rescue breaths and going back to chest compressions - as Gordon fell to his knees, still going so fast he slid the last foot, kicking a cloud up dust. 

He opened the med kit as he stopped, hooking a small canister of oxygen and a hand pump to a mask before placing it delicately over John’s mouth and nose.

“There ya go John.” He said and started to squeeze on the pump. 

Gordon was a focused man. He liked to have a task in front of him, complete it, and then move on. He loved making to-do lists because there was nothing quite as satisfying marking off that last item as done. Some time he could take this to extremes, like the time he spent two days covered in oil and sludge because he had decided to clean out Four’s intakes. And when he said clean he meant shining-like-new-clean when ‘not clogged’ would have done. 

Right now he was focused on the pump in his hands – giving it a firm squeeze that inflated John’s lungs, allowing a slow refill, another squeeze and the pause as the pump refilled. Then Virgil did the next set of chest compression pumping the oxygenated blood while John couldn’t. Nothing else was important and Gordon zoned out the wind tugging at his hair, the stones digging into his knees and the smell of soft earth and plants.

_17:45_

It wasn’t long before the sound of footsteps drifted towards them, and they were joined by the last – uninjured at least – Tracy brother carrying one of their collapsible stretchers and an all-purpose med kit. All kits contained a few of the basics, but some would only contain a couple of bandages or syringes of pain relief to make way for the more specialist equipment. The general kits could triage a whole bus load of people with breaks or minor lacerations if they had to. And they have had to.

“How’s he doing?” Scott asked, taking his place opposite Virgil, giving John’s shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Blood pressure and oxygen saturation are both stable....ish?” Alan reported, being the only one who didn’t have his hands full at that moment.

“Ish?”

“Yeah, small fluctuations but mostly stable.” He clarified. 

“Fine, keep an eye on it Alan.” Scott said, opening up the med kit he had bought. He unfolded a thermal blanket, wrapping it tightly around John’s legs with some care.

“That will help a bit, even though I know it’s not exactly cold right now, but just in case. Where did he get bitten Alan?”

“Not too far away... oh. You weren’t asking that. On the hand I think.”

Scott examined the nearest hand, lying limp in the leaf litter, and Gordon could see a neat puncture wound looking angry and red.

“I’m just going to clean this up, this might feel cold.” Scott said, tearing open an antiseptic wipe.

“What’s with the narration? We can see you ya know.” Gordon said, all this talk getting on his nerves as he kept up his I’ve slow squeezing.

“It’s not for your benefit, it’s for John’s.” Scott said with an annoyed look, causing Gordon and Virgil to exchange a startled glance.

“He’s unconscious. Right? Alan?” Virgil asked, looking as equally appalled at the thought that John might be awake at this very moment.

“I.... well... I don’t.... I thought.... I don’t know.” Alan stuttered in distress.

“How can you not know” Gordon hissed.

“I... I... don’t.... I mean.”

“Wind your neck in Gordon” Scott said sharply and Gordon did so with some reluctance. John would not be uncertain about something as important as whether a victim was bloody awake or not!

Scott fixed both him and Virgil with a penetrating gaze that said ‘shut up’ which they acknowledged with a nod.

Scott continued his ministrations, describing his actions as he examined and bandaged the snake bite to ward off any complications from infection.

 _Can you feel this, John? Feel oxygen being pushed into your lungs, feel your chest pushing down_ _on your_ _heart? Damn, I hope not._ Gordon suppressed a shudder at the thought, checking the pressure gauge on the oxygen tank.

_17:50_

“How long has it been since you got here Virgil?” Scott asked.

When he didn’t immediately answer, from John’s wrist appeared two timers next to his vitals. One said ‘time since bite’, one said ‘time since resuscitation’.

“Ok then, time to sub out Virgil.” Scott said, and gestured for Virgil to move back.

“I’m good.” He said.

“No. We’re taking turns, no discussion. Move.” Scott said sternly and Virgil gave in, not being able to deny that he was covered in sweat and breathing heavily - they all knew how exhausting manual CPR could be.

The three of them rotated every five minutes or so– chest compressions to rest to breathing to chest compressions - working seamlessly as they had trained to do. Gordon tried to think of it like any other rescue, try to separate his emotions from the mission but it hadn’t been this hard since Dad disappeared. The thought of losing someone else.... Gordon scrubbed his eyes briefly, able to as he was currently on ‘rest’.

“You ok Gordon?” Virgil asked, catching the movement and interrupting his monologue on the upgrade path for Thunderbird Two that he was reciting to John.

“Yeah” Gordon shrugged. ”Just.... you know.” he gave a gesture that could be interpreted as 'why do we get ourselves into these situations’ or 'how can life be this shit’.

“I know.” Virgil agreed, face expressing his own frustrations though the tone of his voice never changed. 

A glance at the holographic timers revealed that they had been working for long enough that the venom should be clearing.

_18:15_

“Alan tell us what to do now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I further smash my way through all medical fact, so sorry about that.

They were waiting for him. Waiting for him to tell them what to do. Waiting. Like he had been waiting for the last thirty or forty minutes while his brothers worked. It had been the worst forty minutes of his life as he was so remote from the others. Alan felt detached, isolated and helpless. Several times he had thought about jumping into one of the light aircraft they kept and setting a course, but he knew that his responsibilities were here. And he wouldn’t get there in time anyway.

He didn’t want the responsibility of being all alone with the data and the scans. He wanted to be there,  with his brothers, helping directly, taking his turn to squeeze John’s hand and keep him alive. The agony of the wait had been worse than his leg - though a too quick shift in his seat had sent that slamming into the table, and he had to stifle a yell that would have alarmed people with better things to worry about. He wanted to be there to get a reassuring nudge from Virgil or even a sarkey comment from Gordon. 

The minutes had stretched long on the island. He had closed and reopened and closed again many of his displays, plotted four different flight plans home depending on the movement of a nearby weather system and started to pick a hole in his cast. Alan had stayed mostly silent as his brothers talked continuously to John about the most mundane things and it was horrific to think that John might be awake enough to understand them. 

Already feeling confined due to his own injury Alan was about to burst with energy, but they still had to wait. Wait to find out if Alan’s plan had worked, or if he had made the biggest mistake of his life. 

“Alan! What do we do?” Scott repeated a bit more abruptly when Alan didn’t reply, surprised at being addressed directly after spending so long in the background.

“You’re not going to like it. I guess you probably stop compressions and see if … ummm …. function is returning.”

“You guess?” Gordon snapped harshly. “This is no time for guessing. Damn it, I knew we should have got him to a hospital and...”

“Gordon!” Virgil said with that no-nonsense tone that had all the others step lightly because he used it so seldom. There was nothing as worrying as when easy going Virgil turned up the dial on 'serious’ because you knew that that you were really in the shit. “That’s not helpful and you know it. Alan, what does the data say about this?”

“It doesn’t really.” Alan hurried on before the others could interrupt again, eager to explain before he got a tongue lashing. “Look, right now we are far beyond the data. This hasn’t been tried before because the venom onset is too quick. No-one's even seen one of these things in the wild for fifty years because they are so rare, let alone been bitten. So yes, it’s a guess. And I know that’s not a good thing but it’s the best I could do so please don’t bite my head off.”

There was a heavy pause. Alan tried not to imagine what the other three were mouthing to each other. Even before they were International Rescue as a tempestuous family they had developed silent and secret communication – the passing of notes or waving of hands behind each other’s back. This had simply evolved with the job and the technology particularly when they didn’t want to do anything as blatant as muting the comms.

Surprisingly it was Gordon who spoke first. “I’m sorry Alan. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“We understand Alan.” said Scott. “You’re doing a really good job. Virgil, you ready to stop?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost there, one more chapter to go, just got to decide which pov to go with.

_18:21_

Was he ready? Of course he wasn’t ready. Virgil understood that they needed to stop the manual CPR to allow John’s body to take back over, that continuing too long could have detrimental long term affects, that they couldn’t keep doing this forever. But stopping was just a hairs breadth away from giving up and today was not the day that Virgil Tracy was going to start giving up. 

“Virg.” Scott said softly, from his crouched position manning the oxygen mask. “We’ve done the hard bit. We’re not going to stop fighting for him, I promise.”

That was Scott’s superpower – he could read his brother’s minds. That should be a worrying idea but it was a comfort that there was at least one person in the world that could be relied on to see what he was hiding. 

So Virgil barreled through his trepidation, exchanged a nod with Scott and Gordon and stopped the chest compressions. Scott moved away the mask. Gordon shuffled slightly closer. Three pairs of eyes flicked between the timers, John and the bio-readouts.  The readouts that were still flat and unwavering. 

“Come on, come on.” murmured Gordon anxiously. “Come on John.”

From the first moment that Alan had called in Priority One Virgil had a tense band pushing across his shoulders and back. Intense and stressful situations would always do that to him: it was just the way he would react to pressure. It was often offset by the adrenaline spike that a rescue mission caused, and movement eased it significantly. But he had been mostly still for a long time now, muscles stiffening as he sat. His shoulders had turned to iron and his back into lead, threatening to drag him down as he sat staring at his brother who – at this moment at least – was dying.

“How long can we leave it?” Scott asked, expression intense. 

“Not too long, another thirty seconds maximum” Alan told them form the safety of the island.

They only waited fifteen. Moving as one, without any form of communication, Scott resettled the mask while Gordon got into position for chest compressions. None of them were willing to risk permanent brain injury and Virgil didn’t think his own blood pressure could stand it.

_18:24_

"Alan? It didn’t work. You said it would be broken down by now.” Virgil said, trying to push away the disappointment and fear as he addressed his little brother. What if this didn’t work? Was there a back up plan or was this all they had? 

“Yes” Alan agreed with some exasperation and not a little uncertainty “in lab tests it ‘showed significant deterioration’ after an hour. In the lab, in a petri dish full of enzymes or whatever. So it makes sense that something similar would happen in..... er.. in John. But they didn’t test it like this so I have no idea how this is gonna go.”

“That makes sense” Scott said, not looking or sounding as reassured as he obviously intended. “It took a while to take affect so it will take a while to wear off enough. We just have to wait a bit more.” He muttered, trying to convince himself.

“Hear that John? We’re waiting a bit longer.”   Virgil said, gripping one arm tight. If the only plan was ‘manual CPR’ than that was what he would do, even if it took all night. Even if it took the rest of his life.  Virgil had given up looking for Dad and in the depths of the night he still had the creeping thoughts that he did it just five minutes too soon. Another few minutes and he would have been found. Virgil wasn’t going to do that again. He would be here until John woke up.

The light gradually began to fade, the sky turning a deep blue at the edges which crept up and over the crouching three. In another few months it would already be completely dark and a good deal colder as winter crept on, but for now the temperature was mild and clouds light and fluffy. _Small mercies, small mercies_ Virgil thought to himself as he set up the three small emergency lanterns from the kit Scott had bought. They cast a cold blue light in the clearing, reflecting off the undergrowth to make their tableau eerily like something out of fairytale.

_18:32_

“I think it’s been long enough.” Gordon said, panting slightly from his efforts. “We should try again.”

“Yes, ok.” said Scott.

Virgil drew a deep steadying breath and nodded his agreement. What else could they do?

Once again they drew back and Virgil could hardly bare to watch – lying like this, so still in the deepening dusk, clinical blue glow surrounding them  draining the colour from his skin, John really did look dead. 

Virgil glanced over to Scott and saw the despair that lay behind his façade of strength. He had seen enough people dangling over the edge of a precipice to know what someone barely hanging on looked like. Between the look in Scott’s eyes and the slope of his shoulders – Virgil had never seen his big brother look so desperate and defeated.

Whether consciously or not they all took their lead from Scott, and is was fortunate that the eldest was usually so confident. To see him wavering now scared Virgil more than anything else could. Scott locked eyes with Virgil and he wondered if he was having the same dark thoughts of body bags and headstones right now. 

“Guys..... did you see that?” Asked Gordon, voice shaky.

Neither of them had, but the urgency with witch Gordon spoke bought their attention back very swiftly to it’s proper place.

“What?” Scott demanded.

_18:33_

“There!” Gordon cried triumphantly as the display of John’s pulse – that had been a disheartening flat line for far too long – produced the slightest blip. Not a mountain and barely even a mole hill but the line wavered. And again. And again.

Slow still, far too slow. And not very strong. But it was there.

Virgil leant over, pulled the mask to one side and felt the feint but oh so welcome feeling of air brushing his cheek. Breaking out into a broad grin he said “He’s breathing too.”

Gordon let out a huge breath, almost blew a raspberry it was so forceful, as Scott worked to disconnect the pump so now it was just oxygen tank and mask, which he put gently back over John’s mouth.

The astronaut’s suit was now picking up the respiration so another happy little line joined the pulse that was bopping away. Blood pressure readouts were steady. 

“Is he.... did it work..... the systems say....” Alan seemed to be having difficulty getting the question out. Virgil could understand. It was one thing to see a readout on a screen and quite another to be able to see someone living and breathing in front of you. Virgil didn’t think he’d trust even Brains’ tech if he had been in Alan’s position.

_18:35_

“It worked Alan” Scott said, as relief unwound all the knots and stiffness in Virgil’s back, “He’s breathing again, his heart is beating. He’s alive.”


	8. Chapter 8

_2:57_

Three am wasn't a normal time to be awake, but Alan often was. The others often tried to chase him into bed but recognised that long hard days at unpredictable times could play havoc with the sleep pattern of someone already predisposed to insomnia and didn’t chase too hard. When he felt too buzzed with energy he would take himself to the tv room, nestle on the comfy sofa under a blanket and lose himself in a video game for a few hours before his eyes started to drag, like he was right now.

Tonight he was more restless than most: afraid to even attempt to close his eyes, leg aching where it was propped on a stool in front of him, and the games weren’t distracting him as they usually did. He’d tried four in the last hour and none of them could hold his attention. Today had been longer and more stressful than most and the tension was being slow to ease. 

The door creaked open slowly and Alan prepared himself to be bullied into bed, or scolded for disturbing the others though the room was well sound proofed. He was surprised when he realised it was John’s tall figure that loitered in the doorway, silhouetted by the low light of the corridor.

Alan hadn’t bothered to work out how long it had actually been since John had been stretchered into the infirmary, bleary eyed and slurring but awake –  when working across multiple time zones it was easy to lose track of that sort of thing – but it was probably far too soon for him to be wondering around the house. 

“You’re not meant to be up.” Alan said, not bothering to pause the game. “You should be asleep.”

John stepped slowly into the room, his movement awkward and tentative, swamped by the large hoody and tracksuit bottoms he wore. 

“It’s almost three in the morning. _You_ should be asleep, so let’s not start that.” He said in reply.

“You haven’t been cleared to leave the infirmary because we need to keep an eye on you. Don’t make me the sensible one here.” Alan countered.

John gave a small grin and a snort at that. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said. “But being as you are the only one awake right now, doesn’t it make sense that I’m where you are so you can keep that eye on me?”

Alan couldn’t deny the logic of that, even though it might not save him from Scott’s wrath when he found out, but was concerned when John stiffly lowered himself to sit on the other end of the coach, grimacing slightly. On the screen the car that Alan had been driving was pushed off the racecourse by another player, but he didn’t care. 

“Seriously John, are you ok? I know CPR can be a bit of a bitch sometimes so you’ve got to take it easy.” He said, eyeing John who had turned carefully and with one arm lightly holding his ribs had drawn his knees up, bare feet resting on the couch.

“I’m fine.” John said.

Alan raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Ok, ok. Not one hundred percent. Yes, my ribs hurt, and I think I was lying on a few rocks because my back is bruised and I ache _absolutely everywhere_. But.” John sighed deeply. “I’ll be ok.”

“Maybe now,” Alan muttered “but not when Scott finds you are not tucked up safe downstairs.” He backed out to the main menu and scrolled through some of the other game modes.

“Then I’ll just make sure I’m back down there before him.” John said, resting his head on the cushions. He was the very picture of someone who had no intention of moving. John never seemed to worry about angering the oldest Tracy. Maybe he knew how to handle Scott better, maybe because he got himself to trouble less often or maybe because he usually had the shield of distance when Scott would start on one of his tirades about safety. 

“Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Alan selected his next game and waited for the lobby to load.

“You...... were you scared?” Alan asked, without looking at his brother. 

John didn’t speak for a second, but then said “I knew it was under control, I trust you guys.”

Alan had known everything was under control when he was dangling off that mountain with a broken leg, but it hadn’t stopped him being scared. Maybe John was different and had conquered fear. Or maybe he was just trying to make his baby brother feel better. 

Out of the corner of his eye Alan saw John pull a tablet out of the hoody pocket. It’s lit screen highlighted John’s frown as he studied... whatever, which Alan tried to ignore as his next race started. 

Two laps in and Alan was chasing second when John piped up: “It’s quite an interesting snake actually, the Golden Diamondback, known locally as the sunsnake because of the way the colours shine in high summer. It’s a viper of course. Though never particularly common in the area and there’s a researcher here who thinks the species was hit by some form of disease several hundred years ago which decimated the breeding population. It’s venom is actually a mix of at least two different compounds, maybe as many as six, that work simultaneously and...”

Alan drove right into a wall. “John, I really don’t need to hear more about the thing that almost killed you, so please just _don’t_ right now.”

Snapping like that was completely out of character  for Alan, his sunny disposition soaking up any stormy behaviour. Today had been different. Surely John could understand that. There had been close calls before and John – on the comms at virtually all times – most have witnessed them all. A bit of headspace was all Alan would need to put today in perspective but right now he was having trouble. But that wasn’t John’s fault. He opened his mouth to apologise but John beat him to it. 

“Sorry. I just.... like to know things and.... never mind, I’m sorry.” He said, looking very remorseful.

For a few moments that sat in a silence only broken by the notifications of game invites from a few of Alan’s online friends, that he made no move to accept.

“It... it was always going to be okay you know?” John offered.

“No, I didn’t know.” Alan said. _A_ _nd neither did you_ , he wanted to add. “How do you do it? Sit back and wait when it’s all going on knowing there is nothing you can do. I wanted to be there – to actually be doing something.”

John thought for a moment and said “You were doing something. If you are on the comms you’ve got to accept that at some point you have done all you can. The guys on the ground - or in the sea, or in space or whatever -have had faith in you to find the right answer and then you’ve got to step back and let _them_ do all _they_ can. Sometimes it’s easier than others and it took be a long time to learn. Sometimes it's hard to believe that you did your best when the outcomes are bad.”

John was staring at Alan but not really looking at him – looking through him. The memory of the days they failed were often more vivid than on the days they succeeded – the contrast between what was and what could have been too great.

It was a good point that John made though: Alan always ploughed straight ahead after John told him what to do. It was inconceivable to him that John could be wrong but there was a small measure of comfort in knowing that his near infallible brother felt helpless sometimes too.

“Were you awake? Could you feel anything?” Alan asked softly, not really wanting to know the answers but not able to stop himself.

“To start with. Then it started to get very fuzzy, like in a dream. A bad dream.”

Older brothers always thought that younger brothers believed everything they were told. It might have worked years ago when Santa and the Tooth Fairy were the subject, when the lies were easy and the truths less important.  The larger the lie and the larger the little brother the harder it was, though Alan had found it convenient sometimes to let them continue to believe in their prowess.  Sometimes it was enlightening what they choose to keep from him. 

Right now Alan was convinced that John was lying. Alan would put money on him being conscious and feeling throughout. Would he have felt his ribs crack under the force of the chest compressions? Being pushed into stony ground? Trying desperately to breathe but unable to even twitch? The oxygen pump pushing air into his lungs?  Alan shuddered.

Sometimes it was a comfort to know they never stopped trying to protect him.

John nudged him with his cold foot. “Try not to think about it.”

Sure, like it was that easy.

“You want to play?” Alan offered his controller.

“Nah,” John shook his head not making any move to take it.

Alan sighed and threw the controller down. “Me neither.” Then, Alan had an idea, but tried to disguise the mischievous look in his eye. 

Flicking over to the movie section of the entertainment system Alan scrolled until he found the ‘classics’, and what he was looking for under ‘I’.

Alan turned around and gently manoeuvred himself and his cast leg so he was leaning back against John’s legs snagging a couple of blankets from a nearby pile as he did so. Once he had fidgeted enough to make himself comfortable and tucked a blanket around them both Alan started the film.

At the opening scene of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark John gave a low chuckle and quoted “Why did it have to be snakes?” before pulling the blanket a bit tighter and drawing Alan in a bit closer.

It had been a tough day, a long day. But that was over, and Alan found that he could at last start to relax. Feeling John shift slightly behind him, running fingers slowly through his hair was a greater stress relief than all his gaming so far. Alan gave a contented smile, knocked the volume down a couple of notches and gripped hard onto John’s leg. The day was over, the waiting done his brother was safely home.

* * *

 

They were bundled together in the couch when a slightly frantic Scott found them the next morning. He rolled his eyes at the unnecessary worry that kid brothers caused him, but left them to their well-deserved rest: after all there would plenty of time to make them feel guilty later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading - I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
